Kiss Me, I'm Irish
by Seabound
Summary: The first time Amy got drunk, she vandalized a parking lot, drove her new car into some bushes, kissed seven different boys, tried to fly by jumping of the side of a building, threw up in twelve different places, and was rescued and driven home by a very pissed off Ian Kabra. That was also the last time Amy Cahill got drunk. Amy/Ian Amian/Iamy


**Author's Note:** I found a 39 Clues cannon blog site (sister of the39fics) on Tumblr, and a specific prompt posted interested me. That lead to me brainstorming ways to turn it into a fic, and the product of the tedious writing process was quite satisfying. I have written the prompt below. By the way, I don't own or run the blog, or have to do anything with the posts on it. I just happened to find it while browsing Iamy/Amian online. This is a ONE-SHOT, in case you were thinking of asking me to update any chapters ;)

**Prompt**: The first time Amy got drunk, she vandalized a parking lot, drove her new car into some bushes, kissed seven different boys, tried to fly by jumping of the side of a building, threw up in twelve different places, and was rescued and driven home by a very pissed off Ian Kabra. That was also the last time Amy Cahill got drunk.

**Disclaimer:** I'm tired; do we really need to go through this? The disclaimer is on my profile. To add, the only things I own are the words below and any original ideas. I obviously don't own the prompt.

* * *

1.

Evan _bloody_ Tolliver showed up at Amy Cahill's doorstep.

Only to brag about his new girlfriend...

And she was _not_ taking it well.

o.o.O.o.o

For the first time in years, the library was empty on a Saturday night, and the mansion was devoid of any form of education in practice. Dan was busy with his video games, Nellie was cooking while on the phone with her boyfriend, and Fiske was shuffling through paperwork older than him. Dan (who had recently turned eighteen and had been finally given the permission to buy BlackOps), Nellie, and Fiske were of no surprise, but the fact that Amy had left to meet with friends at a _club_ was news. Assuming the friends included Evan Tolliver and at least one other female, she was free to go with the trust she wouldn't do anything stupid, since she was responsible enough to keep her (very large) apartment from burning down.

Boy, were her guardians damn wrong.

Lights pulsed around her, and bodies swayed to the loud beats of the music. She could feel the floor vibrating, and her head shaking, but she didn't care. She didn't even care that her new boyfriend would probably yell at her later for getting upset about something so stupid. She simply leaned over the wooden counter, locking eyes with the bartender and ordering a shot of alcohol. She drained it within seconds earning an admiring glance, and the man slid another refill down the table.

Her attire was odd for someone at such a place; everyone else was at least sixty percent unclothed. She, on the other hand, wore skinny jeans, a green tee, with the sleeves cut off, that read "Kiss me, I'm Irish" (Sinead bought it for her, insisting she looked like a female leprechaun), tied above her navel to reveal the white tank-top underneath. Green converse, white bracelets, and a messy bun gave others the impression she was an over enthusiastic girl who came back from a trip to the home of chocolate coins.

The bartender slipped out of his confinement, staring down at her. She barely noticed; her mind was fuzzy, her throat burned in a good way, she felt light-headed, and a cooling sensation ran down to her toes. His arm casually went around her waist, and she looked up at him.

"Hey, babe," he flirted, sending a wink at her.

"Hello," she slurred. "Wh-"

Before she could finish her sentence, her foreign lips crashed down on hers, and she gasped, pushing him away. He held her tighter, taking the nudge on his chest as encouragement... until she stepped back and threw up on his shoes. The predicament wasn't exactly new, but she ran away, taking two glasses of Vodka with her.

_"Another knife in my hands,_  
_A stain that never comes off the sheets,_  
_Clean me off..._  
_I'm so dirty babe!"_

Dropping the now empty glasses, she slid onto the dance floor, her hips moving to the song that gave her the chills. Someone caught her while she spun, and she kissed three more boys, before knocking into another and kissing him too.

"_The kind of dirty that doesn't clean off the clothes!_" she sang, and threw up six more times around the club on her search for the bathroom. She finally quit, and exited to the parking lot where she found a group of high-school boys and girls, spray cans in their hands. Finding a particularly cute one, she asked if she could give it a try.

"You _sure_ you're up for it?" he said, unsure if he should give a drunken woman a paint can, which she could potentially end up drinking.

In response, she pulled him down to lock lips (while earning an earful from his girlfriend). When she asked him again, his face was flushed with a silly smile, and he handed it to her. She shook the bottle, artfully creating a jumble of lines and scribbles, and spraying the boy's girlfriend's hair. The girl squawked in horror, and Amy skipped to her car, digging in her bag for keys. She emptied her stomach once more, and attempted to start the car. Setting it to drive instead of reverse, she succeeded in getting on the road.

When her head started to spin again, she swerved the car sharply to the left, and drove it into bushes outside of McDonald's. _There goes my new car,_ she thought. _Oh well._

She pocketed her keys and threw up in the same bushes, and then stumbled across the street into a hotel. Amy threw up outside the hotel, and then once again inside (in the recycling bin). She tripped over her feet four times, and went to the reception.

"Can I have a brush and some toothpaste?"

The receptionist turned around, and eyed her uncertainly. "Umm, are you staying here?"

"Yup!" she lied.

Raising an eyebrow, he dug around in the bin of extra toiletries. He handed them to her and she beamed up at him.

"Thank you!" And kissed him full on the mouth.

She rushed to the bathroom, puking in the sink, and then sloppily cleaning her mouth. She grabbed gum out of her pocket, chewing it quickly, and throwing it out again. It took her a few moments to figure out how to open the door in her drunken state, and she mistook the emergency staircase for the way out. Climbing the stairs (and falling and tripping on steps), she reached the roof. Looking down, she spotted the glittering pool below and an idea sprouted in her mind.

"Cannonball!" she exclaimed. Before she could jump, someone caught her by the back of her shirt and pulled her back. She looked at the elderly woman curiously.

"Now, now, young lady! What were you doing?" she scolded.

"Flying!" Amy answered.

The woman studied her in confusion. "Kids," she sighed. "You're drunk." She towed her downstairs and out the door. "Stop being funny, miss, and go home!"

Sighing, Amy sulked down the street, into dark alleys and winding up at a construction sight of a building. An obnoxious siren blared loudly, and red and blue lights spun around. A patrol car crunched to a stop next to her, blocking the road ahead the officer inside got out.

"What are you doing here?"

His voice, in addition to the noise, woke her up from her haze, and she widened her eyes. "Oh my god. I didn't just... What was I doing?" she muttered.

"What's that?" the officer snapped. His badge shone with the reflection of his headlights, immediately intimidating her.

"Nothing," she squeaked. "I got lost."

He narrowed his eyes, and then nodded. "Do you want me to drive you h-"

A sleek black Porshe halted just in front of the officer's vehicle. Amy could see a line of two or more cars forming behind it, since the policeman was barricading any means out onto the main highway. The owner of the pricey convertible stepped out (wearing a suit without the coat), and everything click into Amy's mind as he said, "Is the road closed?"

Because right in front of her stood Ian Kabra.

Her _boyfriend._

"Amy?!" he exclaimed. "Don't you answer your phone? I was looking everywhere for you... God, Fiske and everyone was having a heart attack and we were about to call the - "

"Ian!" she rushed to his side sheepishly, to escape the officer's scrutinizing. She grabbed his arm, pushing him into his car, while hissing, "Let's go!"

o.o.O.o.o

The ride was rather silent, and Ian didn't ask questions as they sped down the highway. His face was red, and his jaw set into a grim line. When she first saw him, it looked as if he was wearing a whole suit, but up close, she could see that his hair was ruffled, button down not tucked, and pants wrinkled. It was then, she realized that he had really thought she was in trouble, and she felt horrible for her stupidity. And the boys she kissed... She didn't bother breaking the tense silence, because she knew she was in very, very big trouble.

Ian cleared his throat and spoke. "Where's your car?"

She winced at his sharp tone. "I think it's outside of a McDonald's across from Day's Inn."

"And _why_ is it there?"

This was worse than seeing Fiske angry. "Umm, I ran into the bushes because I couldn't drive."

He didn't ask her anything further, and clicked the radio on, tuning it to the news. The reporter's voice broke through.

"_It is reported the another mishap has happened at Pandemonium, the club. A girl in her college years seemed to have over dosed her alcohol and was rather... intoxicated. According to interrogations made in the area, we find that she attempted to vandalize it's parking lot, jump off a building, drove her car to an unknown destination while drunk, and... er, kissed many men around the area. She is reported to me wearing a green shirt that reads "Kiss me, I'm Irish". Police are anxious to know if she's safe, and will not charge her. Why? The bartender has been spiking drinks._"

Amy blushed, staring down at her shirt.

"'Kiss me, I'm Irish'," Ian mused. He looked at her, and scowled, tone increasing with every word. "Vandalizes parking lot?! Attempts to jump of building?! Drives her car while drunk?! And at a club, of all places!" he glared at her, and she shrunk back. "_Kisses many men_!? What the _hell_ were you thinking?"His knuckles turned white while he gripped the steering wheel, as if he wanted to break it.

"Ian - "

"Don't try to make excuses, Amy. You get drunk, and then frolic around - "

"Ian - "

" - kissing random people. How am I supposed to trust - "

"Ian, please - "

" - you? Amy, I can't handle this. We're - "

"Just - "

" - over."

"IAN!" she yelled, shocked at his statement.

"What?" he growled in annoyance.

She banged her fists against the dashboard. "Will you _listen?_ How was I supposed to know he put something in my alcohol - "

"You're not _supposed_ to get drunk at all!"

"Stop interrupting me," she huffed. Tears brimmed at her eyelids, but this wasn't the time to cry. Everything was her fault, but he needed to hear her out. "Look, I'm _sorry_ I was so stupid, and did what I did. I'm _sorry_ for drinking the damn alcohol and getting drunk. I'm _sorry_ I kissed those people. I'm _sorry,_ okay? I'm _sorry,_ I'm _sorry,_ I'm _sorry,"_ she repeated, her voice cracking. "And I'll never do anything that idiotic again."

Ian stared straight ahead, his expression aloof and unreadable.

"Evan showed up at my apartment with his girlfriend. He said some... disturbing things about you and me, and I didn't know what to do. So I let everything go and got drunk."

She jumped when his powerful voice filled the car with anger. "He _WHAT?!_" He spun the steering wheel, taking the first exit he saw and driving with a dangerous speed. Amy looked at him with confusion, and a tinge of fear.

"Ian... Where are we going?"

Silence.

"Ian?"

The scenery out the window was a blur, and Ian pulled into the parking lot for a group of large townhouses. He exited the car, slamming the door with force that shook the convertible. Amy ran after him, tugging at the fist his hand was clenched into.

"Ian? Whatever crazy thing you're about to do, don't do it."

He grunted.

"Please Ian! Jeez, how many times do I have to say it? I'm _so_ sorry!" And she choked on her voice, bursting into tears. She grabbed the collar of his shirt, and crashed her lips against hers. To her surprise, he kissed her back, but with a lot more force. He was rough, and swallowed he gasps with his mouth. When he pulled away, his expression was a bit softer, but not all the way.

He took her by the arm, and pulled her further. "Come on."

"Umm... Okay," she replied, dazed, touching her swollen lips. He was studying a map of the whole complex.

"131, 133," Ian muttered, looking at the various house numbers. "Tell me when you see 157."

She silently pointed it out, and he stomped over, banging on the door. Amy was surprised that it didn't break down.

"Ian, you're going to wake whoever's in there."

"I don't give a - "

"What?!" The door was thrown open, and she stumbled back, staring into the blue eyes of Evan Tolliver.

o.o.O.o.o

"Why are we here?" Amy murmured with unease. She wasn't sure if Ian still wanted to be her boyfriend, but whatever the case, he had dragged her to the doorway of her ex. Even she hadn't remembered where he lived, and wasn't sure how Ian knew. _Lucian as always_, she thought.

"Amy?! Why - you're the snake!" Evan exclaimed.

Ian stared back fiercely, and slugged the Tolliver right in the face. He fell to the floor, clutching his (probably broken) nose.

"What the hell, dude?" he groaned. His caught Ian in the jaw, and just as he was about to retaliate, a barely dressed woman walked to Evan's side.

"What's going on?" she said, eyeing Ian. Her eyes fell on Amy, and she sneered, "You're the crazy chic that was on the news, weren't you? It's a wonder how a person like you dated my fiance."

"Fiance?" Amy asked. "You're getting _married_ to him?"

She laughed cruelly. "Of course, I am, you worthless brat - "

"Hey," Ian cut in.

"What? You're going to hit me, too? Come on, harm a woman," she taunted.

Irked by the woman, Amy stepped up and slapped her across the face. "But I can."

The door was slammed in their face.

Amy stared at the chipping white paint. "I _punched_ her. I hit someone. I can't believe I _punched_ her!"

Ian chuckled, and recovered from the shock of seeing a new side to his usually quiet girlfriend. "Yeah, I can't believe it either."

"I'm forgiven?"

"You're forgiven."

"Yes!" Amy jumped into his arms, planting a kiss on his cheeks, and then on his lips. "I'm so sorry."

"It's fine," he replied, grimacing when her hand touched his jaw. "Ow!"

She drew her hand back quickly.

"Sorry!"

o.o.O.o.o

"You're grounded."

"What?" Amy said, staring at Fiske. "I'm twenty and your grounding me?"

Apparently Fiske, Nellie, and Dan had panicked when they found out what Amy had done, and their shock late turned to anger. Her repaired car was back in her garage, and Ian was no longer mad at her. In fact, he snickered alongside Dan at the hilarity of the situation.

"You're supposed to be on my side!" she protested, smacking him.

"Sorry, love," he replied. "Fiske, did I tell you she also hit Evan's new girlfriend on the face?"

He looked at them amused, and Nellie's jaw dropped. "You _what?_"

Dan slapped her a high-five. "Aww, come on Fiske! You have to admit, that witch deserved it."

"Fine," he sighed. "But Ian, keep an eye on her, will you?"

Ian winked at her, his arm snaking around her shoulders.

"You bet I will."


End file.
